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The Autism Project: Locked up for years, man with autism finds new hope

Anton Karl Heinrich Sellin is now connected to community care centre that offers continuum of support while encouraging independence.

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Life behind bars can be difficult for anyone. But what does it do to a person with autism? Anton Sellin, unfortunately, knows the answer. By Lucas Oleniuk.

By Leslie ScrivenerFeature Writer

Fri., Nov. 16, 2012

Anton Karl Heinrich Sellin cannot always coherently explain himself. But he remembers the exact date he went to the Waypoint Centre for Mental Health Care in Penetanguishene — March 26, 2002.

Sellin, 42, does not want to recall the experiences that led him to Ontario’s only maximum security forensic hospital. A big man, wearing Crocs and sweatpants, his eyes anxiously dart elsewhere and he describes a dream he had about fairies, in an attempt to change the conversation.

At the time of the incident 10 years ago, he had been living in a basement apartment operated by an agency that supports people with developmental disabilities.

Notes on his case from a 2010 discussion paper on autism and the justice system take up the story:

He had no previous criminal record prior to being accused of grabbing a female staff member around the neck and fondling her breast.

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The staff member pressed charges with the support of the large social services agency for which she worked.

The individual was subsequently found not fit to stand trial and wound upbeing incarcerated for an “indefinite period.”

He was there more than eight years.

Just as there are many gaps in understanding autism beyond childhood, there is little research into encounters between police and courts and adults with autism. It is known, however, that they face increased risk.

FBI research shows that a person with a developmental disability is seven times more likely to have an encounter with police than other people.

The numbers are small, but people with autism also seem to be overrepresented in prison, says British psychologist Richard Mills. If autism is found in about 1 per cent of the general population, it rises to about 2 per cent in prison.

However, he adds, people with autism are more likely to be victims of crime than perpetrators. They can be duped, sexually assaulted and robbed.

“Being too trusting can be a huge factor, this inability to read the intentions of others or not recognizing when a situation has become dangerous,” says Mills, director of research at the National Autistic Society U.K. Many do not have the capacity to defend themselves.

He cites the case of British computer hacker Gary McKinnon, a man with autism who for 10 years faced extradition to the U.S. for pursuing his UFO obsession right into the Pentagon’s secure networks. He was harmless, “a pale, dreamy eccentric who would struggle to pose a threat to his own kettle,” British journalist Allison Pearson wrote in October when Britain, citing human rights concerns, refused to send him to the U.S. to stand trial.

“He was surprised at how easy it was to get in,” says Mills. “Yes, their systems were crap, but rather than say, ‘thank you very much’, they said, ‘we’re going to come and get you.’ His was a case of someone with very narrow interest coupled with huge naïveté as to the possible consequences.”

Once in prison, people with autism often stay in longer. “They are incapable of playing the games that prison requires — being co-operative and reading between the lines — and tend to be detained longer and rub up against the system more,” says Mills.

He could not stand the noise and confusion of the prison environment and in response made a great deal of noise and behaved in other annoying ways to either block out the unwanted stimuli or otherwise control it.

“It was like a jail cell,” says Sellin’s mother, Brenda, who is 71. Waypoint staff members describe the institution as a hospital and call the people in care patients, not inmates.

“The toilet was in the open, he had no privacy. Criminals who had killed a number of people had a better setting than this poor fellow. It was pretty crude.”

When he was 32, Sellin “took a liking” to a female staff member at the home where he was living, his mother explains. His attempt at expressing attraction was clumsy and aggressive.

“They live in a black-and-white world with cognitive inflexibility,” says Jessica Jones, a forensic and clinical psychologist and associate professor at Queen’s University. “We can read social situations and have social intuitions — we look at eye contact, body language and verbal messages. We live in grey and we can deal with social ambiguity. But people with autism have more difficulty with that. Are you a friend or a foe? And more subtly, are you friendly or flirty?”

Jones argues responsibility lies with the person without autism to be clear about intention: “I want to be your friend. Not your girlfriend.”

Men with autism can get into difficulties for stalking or harassing. “It’s hard to interpret if someone is being friendly, especially if you are a young adult male with autism or Asperger who wants a girlfriend.”

During the course of the many years he was incarcerated, he was given a number of different diagnoses, was on several different cocktails of psychotropic drugs, and was subject to electric shock treatment on multiple occasions.

Over time he revealed his humiliation while confined — how fellow patients threw oranges at him to knock over his drinks.

“Anton probably wouldn’t have served any time whatsoever if he had been anyone else,” says Glenn Rampton, the chief executive officer of Kerry’s Place Autism Services.

Luckily, Sellin landed at a home run by Kerry’s Place, one of Ontario’s most ideal community care centres for people with the disorder — one that offers a continuum of support for people on the spectrum while encouraging their independence.

But it was not easy. It took a committed forensic social worker making the case that his confinement at Waypoint was not appropriate and a forceful leader at the Ontario Review Board (which annually reviews the status of those unfit to stand trail because of a mental disorder) to ensure that funding was found to support him. For five years, the board had agreed that Sellin did not need to be in the hospital and could be better cared for in the community. Without funding there was nowhere for him to go.

When Sellin was living in his apartment, there was funding from the Ministry of Community and Social Services, but it was withdrawn when he was sent to Waypoint. So, says Rampton, there was a scramble to find money once he was released.

When provincial ministries don’t co-operate and bicker about who should pay — Rampton names Health, Corrections and Social Services — people such as Sellin suffer, he argues.

“Everyone agrees that it should be done, but disagree on who should be responsible for what, in individual cases like Anton’s. The sad thing is that setting up a more effective and seamless process would unquestionably be less expensive overall. They’ve got to collaborate.”

In the end, Community and Social Services accepted responsibility. It cost about $292,000 each year to keep Sellin at Waypoint; as his independence increases, costs to care for him in the community will drop. It cost $205,000 in 2010, $180,000 now and will be about $150,000 when he no longer needs one-on-one support, possibly in the next few years.

For now, Sellin is thriving. He lives in an attic apartment in a sprawling house in the country run by Kerry’s Place. He can take walks on the property on his own. He can prepare some meals and make decisions about how he would like to spend his day.

His pleasures are the local library, watching videos about space, dinners out. “He is a very calm gentleman,” says Francis Nkugwa, the autism support worker who helps him learn to do chores, to understand his emotions and improve his conversation skills.

Sellin is also learning about boundaries and social relationships.

He has made new friends at the Rise and Shine breakfast club where he volunteers in the kitchen and sets the tables. “They are more likely acquaintances,” he says. “But acquaintances are the start of friendship.”

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